Rosewood (SYOC)
by Rachael torie b
Summary: Welcome to Rosewood, an interestingly eccentric and gothic little town. Home of 6 students who think they only have high school to worry about, but in reality they're going to have to face their greatest nightmares, along with whatever else this town brings. Will they be able to survive teen drama, monsters, and each other? Probably not... accepting extra cast!
1. At First Glance

Serenity exited the thick French doors of her high school, heavy and elaborate as they were they were still pretty and eloquent in her eyes. The entire school resembled a gothic villa rather than a public place of educational learning with its stone walls covered in ivy and chapel with stain glass windows. Despite the school's general appearance, it was actually a normal public school. Most of the time, anyway.

After a peaceful but short trek through the school's garden, Serenity reached the parking lot, which almost wasn't visible from the actual vicinity. She sighed, she had so much to do in preparation for the town's Fall Festival Friday night. Not like she was the one in charge of the whole thing, that was 'Miss Popular,' but Serenity still had her fair share of tasks to accomplish in due time. She had to make some finishing touches to some of the costumes, she had to paint a float, and set up the entire face paint and light décor booths. All by Friday; it was already Wednesday.

S spotted her blue Alexis parked near the front of the lot, basically alone, with only a few cars scattered about. She was almost always the last to leave, always having this and that to finish up. Sometimes she cursed having an extreme complex to get involved with everything, but at least she always had something to do.

Right as she reached her car, she dropped her keys on the ground with a startling _clink _that made her jump. Turns out, the dropping of keys is a very loud noise in a dead parking lot. Serenity rolled her eyes, and bent down to collect her keys, and right when her hand had almost clasped around them, she noticed a dark shadow slowly slide across her car. Expecting to see someone, _or something, _behind her, Serenity whirled around with keys in hand. A frown settled on her face as she scanned the seemingly empty expanse with narrowed hazel eyes. Seeing no one insight, S shrugged and unlocked her car with the push of a button and got inside, speeding out into the street without a second thought about it.

A/N:

Okay, so this is SYOC, which I have not completely planned out yet, but I have a pretty good picture. I need specific characters, which I'll request in a moment. First off, if you're going to submit please leave a review telling me what you thought of my little intro, and of any improvements I could make. When submitting, PLEASE MAKE YOUR CHARACTER DETAILED! I cannot say how important detail is!

Without further due, here's the characters I want:

The Popular Girl Who's A Little Overbearing Sometimes(TAKEN)

The Disaffected Bad Boy(OPEN)

The Womanizing Popular Boy Who's Kind Of A Jerk(OPEN)

The Smart Girl(TAKEN)

Just because these are the "type" of characters I need doesn't mean they can't have a diversify in their personalities. PLEASE GIVE THEM INTERESTING PERSONALITIES! Form on Profile.


	2. The Morning Before

Cassie was having a good dream, nestled down in her feather pillows and ruby red satin sheets, fiery red hair covering half of her face. In her dream, she'd just been called up on stage to deliver her valedictorian speech, and soon to be granted full scholarship to any college she wished to grace with her brilliant intelligence. The spotlight was on her, complimenting her fair skin tone, and the crowd of her student peers clapped and cheered for her. The principal opened his mouth to speak, to congratulate her for the wondrous academic accomplishments earned through pure persistence and long hours of study, but instead of Principal Arden's deep voice, the screeching shrill of Cassie's mother came out instead. Cassie frowned in her sleep.

"CASSIE! It's time for school! Get down here now, or you'll be late!" There were only two weeks out of each month that Ann Rolland, accomplished politician and mother, were actually home, and when she was Cassie chose not to be in her demanding company longer than she had to.

Rolling out of her amazingly comfortable queen sized bed, Cassie landed in a heap on the floor. She just wasn't feeling up to par this morning. Probably had something to do with her usual nightly studying session, which had lasted longer than it normally did. But hey, if you want to get a Cassie Rolland score on the ACT, you have to put in the time. Groaning as if she'd been stuffed in a tiny closet for too long, the redhead managed to dramatically pull herself from the purple fluffy carpet and inched her way limb by limb toward her personal bathroom- conveniently and strategically connected to the teen's bedroom.

Once finished freshening up for the morning, Cassie carelessly ran a brush through the scarlet tangled locks in front of her mirror. She cringed when she ripped out a few strands, and finally deciding her innocent hair had done nothing to deserve the torture, she laid down the instrument on her bedside table. It was really a beautiful piece of furniture, festooned with hand carved garlands and tiers upon cream pedestals, made from rich wood polished to perfection with golden French handles on the drawers. Cassie hated the table; it had been a gift from her father.

Cassie eyed the middle drawer for a few moments, waging a silent war with herself. Finally she sighed, and grasped the golden handle, pulling open the drawer slowly. She stared at the contents, contemplating whether she needed them or not. On one hand, she wasn't studying, so did she really need them? But on the other, she did feel really drained, so it would be fine, wouldn't it? The redhead glared at the two bottles of pills accusingly, as if they had personally done her some great wrong at one time or another. After a good minute of glaring, Cassie slammed the drawer shut with an angry huff.

She rushed to her closet, and hurriedly put on some clothes, knowing fully how late she was compared to her usual schedule. Running into the hall and down the stairs at full speed, she noted that her mother and father must have already left for work. Both their vehicle keys were absent from the mahogany shelf that usually held them. Right at the door, Cassie realized she forgot her own keys in her bedside table. Turning around too quickly, Cassie almost fell, but swiftly regained her balance, and at once she was running back up the steps, down the hallway lined with family pictures, and into her room.

The drawer that held her keys, and the pills was still open, she cursed herself for being so careless. Grabbing her keys, and glanced at one of the bottles, "To hell with it," she muttered darkly, while grabbing the bottle in her free hand. The lid popped off with the force she gripped it, and she lightly shook it until two pills fell into her other hand. She stuck them in her mouth, swallowed them dry, and hurriedly re-lidded the bottle. After dropping it back into the drawer, she slammed it once again, then Cassie was off. Once outside, the day already looked brighter.

Lacey stood in front of her full length mirror, one hand on hip and a thoughtful expression on her tanned face. Currently, she was surveying the outfit she was wearing: a short white skirt and an extremely expensive cashmere striped sweater. Finally nodding her glossy golden haired head in approval of her appearance, Lacey turned away from the mirror with an eloquent swish. It was only 7:00, she'd been up since ten minutes until six, and school started at eight, so she had plenty of time.

Walking over to her pink silk bed with matching canopy, Lacey eyed the things laying out on it. Among these things were her Fall Festival outfit accessories, the list of booths still needing a few items here and there, all the sample flyers she had to choose from, and a sample menu of the food that was to be available. As proud leader of the festival since freshmen year, Lacey was in charge of…well, everything. It was a rather large responsibility, but if anyone could handle it, it would be Lacey Merchant!

With a flip of her lovely golden curls, Lacey decided she would run through a quick checklist of everything she still needed to do for the festival. Of course she'd still have to pick up her dress from the shop, where it was being costumed tailored to fit to per-fect-ion. She still needed to find someone to man the fortunetelling booth, but she knew exactly who could do it. She still needed to get the stage decorated properly, which should have already been done, but she should have been used to incompetence of her peers. No matter, she would—

Lacey's thought was interrupted by a knock at her bedroom door, "Princess, sweetie, I have a package for you!" Called her mother, Maria, from the hallway. Lacey frowned, a package? She hadn't ordered anything.

Nevertheless, she answered sweetly, "Come in mother!" Returning her attention to the items on her rather large bed. Maria entered the room holding a long white box with a red satin ribbon wound around it tightly, a cream card attached with silver string. She laid it down on one of the few empty spaces on the bed.

Her mother gave her a quick peck on the cheek, "I'll just leave you to it then." She exited the room, leaving the door open behind her. Meanwhile, Lacey's attention was on the ribboned box. She picked it up, and shook it, but there was no sound to give away what was on the inside. Shrugging, Lacey unwound the ribbon, laying it on her bed. Carefully she slid the lid from the rectangle box, and then frowned in confusion.

Laying in the midst of grey silk lining and white Baby's Breath, were a dozen solid black roses, stems covered in lots of little wicked thorns. Lacey plucked the card from the sliver string, determined to find out who would send her such ugly flowers. What was written on the card confused her even more. It read in intricate handwriting:

_**How timid and frail is unrequited love? A place you entered of your own accord, but you're trapped inside, unable to find an exit. She doesn't know a thing, and could one day leave my line of sight, and the love ends passively. A love that does not bloom flowers, and thus cannot dream of bearing fruit. A love like a seed that is forgotten, that is unrequited love **_

_**I'll see you at the festival, Lovely Lacey.**_

Lacey stared at the card for a good five minutes, trying to make at least _some_ sense out of it. When she could not, she just dropped it in the box, putting the lid back on it. The blond tried to shake off the creepy filling tingling her spine she got from reading the latter, so she returned to her mirror. While looking herself over, Lacey noticed a dark shadow glide down the hallway through the open door. "Mom?" She called questioningly; she got no answer in return. Lacey shook her head, _great now she was seeing things. _

**A/N: Before writing this I planned to have all the accepted characters in this chapter, but then I realized with just the two I wrote it turned out to be 1, 416 words long, so I decided that I'll just have to post more introduction chapters. I know I also said I wouldn't post until the deadline, but I have all my characters so I couldn't help myself. PLEASE REVIEW! And here's the official cast list:**

**The Popular Girl: Lacey Merchant **

**The Popular Boy: Thomas Simmons **

**The Smart Girl: Lela Fontaine and Cassie Rolland (Couldn't choose which one, so I chose them both!)**

**The Bad Boy: ****Michael Richardson**

**Okay, thanks to everyone who submitted and reviewed last chapter! It really meant a lot, even if I didn't choose your OC, thanks for submitting! **


	3. Unwanted Activities

"You have such pretty hair, Lela! You should let me do something with it, it's much too beautiful to be just down all the time!" Lela batted her mother's hands away from her long wavy locks, giving her a stern look.

"One, I'm not a small child who needs someone to do her hair for her, and two, my hair is fine just the way it is." Her mother scowled, but backed down rather easily, letting a fiery golden bronze strand slip through her fingers. Lela returned her chocolate brown gaze firmly back to her laptop, the light of the screen reflecting from them as she scrolled through files. Her mother went back over to the kitchen sink where she was cutting apples up for a salad, opposite the counter where Lela sat on a marble top bar stool.

"Whatcha doin'?" Her little brother vacated his cereal at the table to have a look at her computer screen. His pale face peered over her shoulder, an interested expression lighting his eyes.

"Nothing Owen," Lela said without looking up from her computer. The young boy frowned.

"It looks like you're in NASA's staff access only on their website." She clicked her laptop shut and gave a look to Owen, who just shrugged and went back to his frosted flakes. Lela scooped up her laptop, mumbling something about 'what does a girl have to do for some privacy' while headed toward the stairway. Her mother's voice stopped her midway.

"Lela, sweetie, you're driving Alec to school today." The naturally multicolor haired girl groaned in annoyance.

"I thought Dad was driving him to school today." She huffed.

"Not today," her mother called back, "He had to go in early to catch up with some work at the firm." Lela grit her teeth. "Well?"

"Fine, fine." She reluctantly agreed, stomping up the stairs and down the hallway to her room, where she shut the door loudly. Lela sat the laptop down onto her white oak study desk that took up almost an entire corner of the her room, it was that big. She grabbed her book bag off it while leaving the room and flipping off the light to the chandelier that hung above the center of the room. She had a hate love relationship with that thing: it was very pretty and cast sparkles all around the room, but what if it fell on her? She'd be dead instantly, or at least she hopped she would be.

Once again in the hallway nearing the staircase, Lela stopped at her brother's door, giving it a sharp series of taps. "Alec, come on, we're gonna be late." There was some rustling noises, but then the door opened.

The first thing he says, "You're not driving that old pickup are you?" Giving her a scrutinizing look.

Lela crossed her arms over her chest defensively, "Matter of fact, yes I am. Got a problem with it?"

"Naturally. That thing is terrible Lela." He said as he walked past her to the stairs.

"Well," she called as she moved toward the steps, "That thing is what is going to get you to school so get over it." He just waved a hand in response. Oh, he is going to be such an annoying lawyer, Lela thought bitterly.

* * *

The wind was knocked out of him, his chest burned, his breathing was wheezy. Coach McNally cringed, "Walk that off, Thomas, walk that off." He called to the football player lying on the ground. Thomas pushed himself off the grass, brushing some off his jersey. He winced when his friend Bryan slapped him on the back.

"Dude, you alright?" Thomas shrugged him off.

"M' fine," He said as coach announced practice was over for the day. He limped to the water cooler, getting himself a drink in a little paper cup. Bryan was on his heels.

"Check it out," he said, nudging Thomas slightly. Thomas followed his line of sight, leading right to the cheerleaders who were still deep in their practice for some odd reason. He rolled his eyes at his friend.

"You only ever have one thing on your mind, Bryan." He chuckled.

Bryan scoffed in response, "Yeah, and like you don't."

Thomas smirked, deep blues eyes flashing mischievously. "I prioritize. Girls, football, girls, and girls."

Bryan blinked, "Then girls should be first today."

Thomas' smirk deepened, "Oh trust me, they were…" Bryan laughed loudly, slapping Thomas on the back once again.

"Who was it?" He asked curiously, dark brown hair sticking up every which a way.

"Jennifer Weekly," He replied while checking out a cute blond from a far.

His much shorter friend wolf whistled, "She isn't the brightest but she's got some awful nice legs." Thomas snorted.

"She's got a lot nicer-" He started to say, but was cut off unceremoniously by Coach McNally.

"Simmons! Get your butt over here!" He called from his stance by the entrance to the locker room. Thomas waved to his friend before jogging over to coach.

"Yeah Coach?" Coach thrust him a white envelope with some sloppy handwriting scrolled across the back. Thomas looked at him, confused. "What's this?"

"It's the recommendation latter your father asked me to write for you." Thomas eyed the letter in his hands warily, jaw clenching.

"Thanks, I guess, but this isn't senior year yet." Thomas pointed out, looking for an excuse to hand the letter back.

"Don't worry about it," Said Coach, "Your dad just wants to get you in a good football college is all."

"I know," He muttered to himself as he walked into the locker room, rubbing a hand through his golden hair. On the way home, he might accidentally lose the letter. Those things happen sometimes, you know.

* * *

Michael Richardson loves parties: parties with teenage intoxication, parties with no adult supervision, and parties with a dark corner where he himself could be found with a few others. He did not love parties with his boring uptight parents as hosts, where he had to wear a suit, and where he would get in trouble for breathing wrong. He hated those parties.

His mother, Jane, looked at him expectantly, awaiting a an answer to a question he didn't want to answer. She had just asked him to invite the more "respectable" of his student peers to one of those parities he hated. By respectable, she meant filthy rich children of the filthy rich parents who resided in Rosewood, who of course, were the actual targets of his mother.

Michael smiled civilly up at his mother from his position on the lawn chair, when in reality he felt anything but, "Of course mother, I'd be happy to." He was angry and lied through his teeth, but Jane didn't need to know that.

She smiled broadly at him, "Wonderful." She gushed before flouncing back into their mansion. Michael huffed angrily; he'd spent so much time and effort trying to keep his home and family life separate from his school and friends life. But then his parents go and decide to have a fucking party to almost specifically ruin that! He glared at the red rosebush growing in a flowerbed by his lawn chair, weeds sprouting up around it. He rolled his eyes, the gardeners couldn't even do their job correctly.

After briefly contemplating blowing the whole thing over, Michael decided he would just have to go through with the whole mess, as stupid and annoying as it was. He would get through get it; after all, he had gotten through worse things in his time. He would make it believable, he always did. Who knows, maybe he could make some fun out of it. There would be other teenagers there for once, and none of them bad looking at all.

Done thinking things through for now, Michael put back on the dark shades he had been wearing before his mother spoke to him. Now he would tan; later he would deal with overbearing parents and his peers.

* * *

A/N: I am so, so sorry for taking this long to update! I have an excuse though, my laptop crashed, so now I have to use a very slow, very old home computer. I want to thank I am Katie Daughter of Demeter for being so helpful and understanding; she helped me with getting this chapter up a lot! So, until next time!

P.S. Please tell me if I'm not writing your character how you want them to be written, or just if you have any suggestions at all.


	4. Frightening Feelings

"Okay listen up, you hormone crazed delinquents," Mr. Styles started affectionately, "I have a raging headache and don't feel like putting up with your incompetence today, so I'm going to sit here and read and all of you are going to be quiet and do your work. Miss Rolland and Miss Fontaine are in charge of your education for the day." With that, the middle-aged man sat in his roller chair and turned his back to the rest of the room, pulling out _Gone With the Wind _from his satchel.

Cassie sighed, she had planned to do a little reading of her own once she finished her assignments early, as she always did, but alas it was not to be. Across the classroom, Lela seemed a tad bit more annoyed by the teacher's statement than the other redhead. But reluctantly moved from her seat to get the packets from Mr. Styles desk. She and Cassie both got there at the same time.

"Looks like we're doing the teacher's job again," Stated Cassie as she divided up the packets to pass out between she and Lela. Lela glanced at the back of his head.

"And he calls us incompetent," She grumbled in response. Cassie looked at Mr. Styles to see if he was paying any attention to their conversation. He wasn't. Cassie nodded in agreement. The two girls shared a dislike for their advanced reading and English teacher, or rather, the two of them shared their dislike of him with everyone. Save for a few of the girls, who had a crush on him, but the two star students weren't as fickle.

The two redheads began passing out the packets to each side of the room respectively, both having a few extra. Lela went back to her seat with a packet; Cassie plopped down beside her.

"What are you doing this Friday night?" Cassie asked, making conversation.

Lela looked at her for a minute, then answered, "Nothing, why?" Cassie shrugged.

"Just asking," The brown-eyed girl looked at her own paper, but then spoke again. "Has anything weird happened to you lately?" The other girl looked surprised, but then once again closed off.

"Why?" Lela asked again, not answering the question.

"I just have a feeling." Cassie had not looking up from the question she was answering about author's purpose. Kindergarten work for Cassie. And Lela.

Cassie now had her attention, "A feeling that something weird happened to me lately?" Lela asked suspiciously, eyes narrowing. "That doesn't make any sense whatsoever."

"Not you specifically, no." Cassie answered while moving on to question five.

Lela crossed her arms over chest, "Then why ask me at all?"

"Jut wanted to see if you noticed anything happening at all." The girl said, now on question six.

Confusion was written on Lela's delicate featured face, and she hated to be confused. "OK, what kind weird are we talking here?"

The other teen looked up, "I don't really know exactly. I just have a strange feeling, you know the kind you get when you're being followed in the dark on the way home? That kind, except I'm not feeling it on the way home, I'm feeling it almost all the time." Cassie went back to her paper.

Lela gulped, she knew exactly what _that feeling _felt like. She felt it all the time.

:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;

Lacy pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration, counting to ten mentally before composing herself. She clapped her hands, and threw a tight smile onto her face. "Come on girls! You got this, we're going again!" Some of the other cheerleaders groaned, some huffed, some gave exasperated sighs, but they all got back into formation. Lacy smirked in triumph.

It was the third day in a row Lacy had made her cheerleaders stay later than usual practicing, and she knew she was being a little harsh on them, but it wasn't her fault none of them could do their new cheer perfectly. Nope, not hers at all. She was doing her job, and she did it dang well.

The thing she hated most is those little puny cheers where the girls half heartedly yell, and just wave their arms around a little. Oh no, that was not happening on Lacy Merchant's watch. She wanted spirited shouts, splits, back flips, cartwheels, and anything else that was worth the extra applause. She groaned; the routine went wrong again.

She stomped toward them, glowering at any who dared look her in the eye. "OK people, there's this thing, and it's called effort! I expect it from all of you! We're supposed to bring forth school spirit, not look like we're going to freaking funerals!" A timid looking Kelly Mason stepped forward, wringing her hands nervously before swiping them down her uniform. Lacy narrowed her eyes at the interruption.

"Look, Lacy we're all just really tired; we can pick this up again tomorrow." Lacy stared at her in disbelief; they couldn't get a flippin' cheer right, and they expected her to be easy on them! She could practically feel her eye twitching. Calm, Lacy, be calm. You should be used to picking up other people's slack by now.

"Fine," She rasped, "We'll continue this tomorrow, but I suggest practicing when you get home. If you don't know this routine forwards and backwards by daybreak, I'll be making some cuts." Lacy spat venomously; the other girls shuddered at the mere thought. They scattered away like sheep.

Lacy rolled her eyes, trotting over to the bleachers where she had put her stuff. Grabbing her water bottle up and taking a swig, still blustering with annoyance over the way practice went. There was a game next Friday, and she wouldn't be caught dead with a team that couldn't do a minimally complex routine. Why couldn't people be more like her? Was it just too much to ask? Plopping down hard on the bleachers, Lacy put her head in her hands, thinking of new ways to drill her cheerleaders on not failing miserably.

Between her perfectly painted and manicured fingers, Lacy saw something shift out of the corner of her eye, slipping around the side of the bleachers toward the courtyard area. Frowning, she slide out of her seat, intending to find whoever was creeping around her football field. Slowly, Lacy walked around the bleachers, seeing no one on the other side. Looking up, her eyes landed on a long shadow stretched across the ground. Lacy almost yelped in surprise when it drifted around the corner toward the weight room.

She took a deep breath to calm herself, and headed at a faster pace toward the weight room. Hearing a door shut, she hurried around the corner to the entrance. Peering through the glass door, Lacy saw no one on the landing where all the workout equipment sat. The landing was the top floor of this particular building, and down below was the rather large pool. Lacy looked down from the landing, peering over the railing to the pool. The space below was devoid of life as far she could see from here, but there was a towel laying near the pool's latter. Either someone forgot their towel, or she wasn't alone.

As Lacy walked down the metal stairs slowly, she mused on how the room looked creepy with only sunlight to see by and the reflections of the water dancing on the roof and walls. Very creepy indeed. To far side of the room, there was hallway which led to the showers, and Lacy heard a sound she pegged to be one running. Quietly, she crept toward the dimly lit entryway.

Looking before entering, Lacy didn't see a soul anywhere. Silently still, she walked into the shower room, which of course didn't have any lights on. Only the barred up windows near the low roof let in light. Gulping, the golden-haired girl took slow step after slow step toward the running shower on the farthest end of the room. Her nerves were a wreck by the time she was reaching for the water spattered shower curtain.

Her hand rested on it, and finally she yanked it open. Lacy sighed with relief and frustration, a hand coming to rest at her throat; no one was in the shower. She laughed out loud at herself so being so ridiculous.

Suddenly a scream tore itself from her throat; something firm, cold, and wet had her arm and yanked her around.

* * *

A/N: So, what'd ya think about this chapter? I didn't edit yet, so point out any mistakes you find if you feel like it. I was going to write more to this chapter, but I decided to make it a cliffhanger instead.

Review please!


	5. Boys Will Be Boys

The chorus of sharp screams died in Lacey's throat, replaced with a growl. Her arm was in the grasp of a tall, black headed, only-wearing-a-towel boy who had his cocked to the side in a mocking fashion. His sea green eyes twinkled mischievously as water dripped from his hair. Lacey knew exactly who this was.

"Geez, Michael, do you always go around scaring people half naked?" She inquired with an air of superiority, yanking her arm free, causing her curls to bounce. The boy in question reached up at the same time and quickly caught a golden strand of hair, only one hand holding his towel now.

"Sometimes," He hummed softly as he twirled Lacey's hair around his finger, giving it a tug before releasing it. Lacey gulped, she was getting uncomfortable at an alarmingly fast rate. "But they're usually not scared for _that _reason."

"Uh, okay. Good. So, I'll just be leaving now, then. Have fun showering," She said, gesturing to the still running shower before turning to make a break for it.

Michael made a tisk tisk sound before blocking her exit. "Well, Blondie, what are you doing here exactly if you didn't intend to help me finish showering?" At _help_, Michael arched a dark eyebrow in a suggestive manner.

Lacey scoffed indignantly, once again being able to grasp at her anger, crossing her arms over her chest defensively, "I saw a shadow and followed it here," She stated huffily, as if she was having to explain the world's problems to a very small, very stupid child.

The boy once again raised an eyebrow, this time in clear amusement. He smirked, "A shadow?"

Lacey rolled her eyes, "Yes Michael, a shadow. I trust you've seen one before?"

He gave her a sarcastic smile in response, "I thought I heard someone come in before you did."

"Well," She started to leave, "Tell them not to creep around when you see them." She got to the doorway, but stopped. Curiosity had gotten the better of her. "Why are you still here? Don't you have running water at your house?"

"Swim Team, "He stated, sounding a bit bored.

"Oh, okay," Turning to leave again, but she couldn't help herself, "I never heard of a one man swim team before."

Michael chuckled, this chick obviously had to have the last word. "Just getting some extra practice, which I'm guessing is why you're still here at six o'clock."

Lacey laughed darkly, without any real mirth, "Oh no, not me. I'm perfect; I don't need any extra practice, it's those simpering artificially tanned nitwits who need the extra practice."

Michael laughed, "Bashing your own cheer team, now that's cold." Lacey glared at him from where she had leaned against the doorway.

"Why don't you finish your shower?" She huffed.

Michael smirked, "That's what I've intended to do. Care to join?" He asked playfully as he dropped his towel that had been getting lower during their conversation.

Lacey's face got strawberry red and she pushed herself off the doorway. "Thanks, but no thanks, gotta run." She hurriedly said as she quickly made an exit.

Chuckling, he called after her, "I'll wait for you next time!" Lacey faltered in her step, `but then hurried on out of there, cream-colored heels clicking on the concrete.

* * *

"Bryan, leave her alone," Thomas said a bit uncomfortably, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

His brown-haired friend gave him a wry smile, "She likes the attention." Thomas looked the girl over; she had herself backed into the side of a shed, red hair a mess and blue eyes wide as a deer in headlights.

"Um, no she doesn't." Bryan ignored him completely, continuing to invade the girl's space. Thomas sighed, irritated and exhausted with his friend. They were in the school's garden, a breeze rustling through the trees. The two boys were just leaving practice when Bryan caught sight of Sabrina, the little redhead he liked to bother so much. The whole situation was wearing on Thomas's nerves.

"Just let her go," Thomas tried again, "She's gonna report you for sexual assault."

Bryan laughed heartily, fiddling with the girl's long hair, "You wouldn't do that, now would you Sabrina?" The girl just turned her head away from him; Bryan laughed again.

"Seriously dude, you need to stop." Bryan scoffed at Thomas's warning.

"Thomas, you get up in girls' space all the time," Brayan rationalized.

The blond boy rolled his eyes, "All the girls I'm with are always there willingly." Bryan just moved in on the girl again, causing her to let out a whimper. There was a crash, Thomas whirled around.

"WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?!" Spat/yelled a seething dark headed boy. Thomas stepped back; whatever was going to happen was between his stupid friend and this guy.

Bryan frowned, "Calm down dude, it's none of your business." The other guy fumed, the veins in his neck bulging.

"That's my baby sister." He ground out lowly. Bryan's eyes got wide, and Thomas just looked a little bemused.

"Oh," Bryan said stupidly, side stepping to let the girl pass. She quickly scurried behind the black haired guy, who told her to get to the car. She nodded and hurried off toward the parking lot. The girl's brother stepped forward, cracking his knuckles menacingly.

Bryan gulped, putting his hands up in surrender, "Look dude, I didn't mean any harm." After he saw there would be no talking his way out, he turned to Thomas pleadingly. Thomas looked back at him, but didn't move an inch. Bryan looked back to the dark haired guy, but was met with a fist to the face. Bryan stumbled back, taken aback with a bloody lip. The other guy swung again, smashing his fist into the side of Bryan's face, who flipped over backwards.

Bryan got back onto shaky feet and tried to punch his opponent, but the dark haired boy kicked him in the gut, hard. The brown haired boy once again went tumbling, coughing. The other boy marched over and grabbed a handful of Bryan's hair, punching him repeatedly in the face, rupturing his lips and cutting his eye with blow after blow. Thomas summarized he had let this go on long enough.

He went over to the two, intending to break them apart, but got punched in the face. Naturally, this didn't sit well with the blond. Thomas wiped the blood off the side of his lip with his shirt, and barreled toward the dark haired guy. Swiftly, he crashed his elbow into his temple, which sent him reeling backwards. Thomas took advantage of his unbalanced footing, and sent a well-aimed punch home, knocking him to the ground by the bleeding Bryan.

Thomas kicked him in the ribs at least six times before the other teen grabbed his leg and twisted it around at an awkward angle. Thomas grunted in pain as he yanked backwards to detangle himself from the other guy's grasp, who jumped up off the ground with the kick. Thomas stumbled backwards to avoid the punches coming at him, but his back hit the shed Sabrina had earlier been backed up against.

Thomas ducked a punch aimed right at the center of his face, and was a bit surprised when it when through the wood of the little structure. Thomas slipped out of the way, now having his opponent cornered. He gave him a hard punch to the stomach, which knocked him backwards into and through the wood of the little building. He peered inside, still ready to fight, but the other guy was staring up from his position on the floor, looking like he'd seen a ghost.

Frowning, Thomas looked up, and then a chill swept over his entire body. Hanging from one of the wooden beams that held the roof, was what appeared to be a dead body, swinging back and forth with the light seeping in through the shed's cracks highlighting its pale, lifeless face. Its dark glassy eyes stared hollowly at nothing, and its thin white lips were curled into a small, haunting smile. It smelled like death all around, and Thomas was surprised they hadn't noticed it earlier. In the corpse's left hand, its fingers loosely held onto what looked like a piece of paper.

He turned away, no longer having the stomach to look at the sight anymore, or the will to hear the creaking of the wood as the body swung. The dark-haired boy pushed himself up off the ground, staring at the hanged man the whole time, like it would jump down on him if he didn't watch his back.

"I'll call the cops," Thomas muttered quietly, more to himself than to anyone, pulling his iPhone out of his short's pocket and dialing 911.

"911, what is your emergency?" Asked a calm female voice. Thomas drew in a breath.

"Yeah, we found a dead guy hanging in our school's toolshed." He shuddered, saying it out loud made it worse.

The woman on the other end didn't hesitate, "What is your name sir and where is your location?"

"Uh," Thomas fumbled with his words for a moment, "I'm at Rosewood High in the garden at the entrance; I'm Thomas Simmons."

"Is there anyone else there with you Thomas?" She asked in the same clinical tone.

"Yeah, yeah. Just get here," Thomas added before he ended the call. He took another deep breath, and listened to the sirens of the police cars on the way.

* * *

A/N: So, what'd think about this chapter? Things are finally picking up! Do you think someone killed the guy, or something supernatural killed him?

And while I'm thinking about it, I need a few more characters. Just some people from around town, like a mayor, a sheriff, a diner owner, or someone like that. I already have the form on my profile, the very last one on there. Until next time then!


	6. Our Stalker Is Dead

Michael felt slightly nauseous, his stomach churning uncomfortably as he looked at the dead guy. He'd seen dead people before at funerals and that one time he broke into the morgue (Long story, don't ask), but this was different. At funerals and in morgues were where dead people were supposed to be, not hanging suspended from toolsheds at high schools in gardens. He leaned back on his heels and crossed his arms over his chest defensively, watching the police poke around the shed and the body. Looking across the garden, Michael saw Thomas being questioned by some detective guy, Darien Moore. Thomas looked like he felt even sicker, and looked back at the detective with a slightly shaken blank stare as he nodded along and answered questions. The detective looked as if he'd finished interrogating Thomas and headed Michael's way, _freaking perfect_ he thought miserably.

"Michael Richardson, my name is Detective Moore and I'd like to ask you a few questions," The detective motioned for him to step away from the scene with him. Michael sighed.

"Sure," He said, like he had a choice. Moore took out a small yellow notepad and a black ballpoint pen and Michael had to snort, this guy was the stereotypical detective from the old black and white noir movies with the long tan trench coat and pressed black pants, and quite frankly the teen was surprised he didn't have on the stupid little hat to top the outfit off.

"What exactly where you doing here at this time after school Michael?"

"I usually stay late after school for swim team practice, and then later after that to practice more." Moore nodded.

"You must take swimming pretty seriously then Michael, if you practice that much," Michael just looked at him blankly as Moore took his pen and pointed it at Sabrina who stood in the corner crying as some police woman tried to console her; Michael looked at her with affectionate sympathy, "She your sister?" Questioned the detective.

The dark haired boy swallowed thickly and directed his attention back to the man questioning him, he nodded, "Yeah, she's my baby sister."

The detective continued on with his line of questions, "And what is she doing her? Is she on the swim team too?"

"Yeah," answered Michael, "She's on the girls' swimming team and she's also in dance, which is why she was still here. She can't drive yet so I'm usually her ride home."

The detective motioned his head in acknowledgement, and a secretive look shifted onto his face, and he leaned forward, as if what he was about to say was really private. "Michael, take your sister and go home, and if I were you I wouldn't stay here at this school any later than you actually HAVE to," He put emphasis on the 'Have.' With that he flipped his little book shut and tucked it and the pen back into the little breast pocket of his jacket. At that moment a police officer came ambling over, his wispy blond hair being ruffled by the wind.

He looked concerned as he spook, "Detective Moore, I think there's something that you should see, right away." Moore glanced at him, then back at Michael and gave him a tight, not-so-reassuring smile and trotted back into the crime scene with the officer. Michael followed them ever so slightly; he wanted to see what was so unsettling to the lawmen. They were both crouched over the body, discussing something in hushed tones while Moore held a stick in his hand, with what looked a newspaper clipping on the end of it. Michael inched closer and closer, now being able to hear bits of their conversation as he stood silently in the doorway of the shed.

He was able to make out 'Danger,' 'The girls,' and the phrase 'surely not so soon,' which made the detective take on an exasperated expression. Michael peered over his shoulder, so he could see what the paper was. It looked as if his first guess had been correct, as it did appear to be a newspaper clipping, one with a school picture on it entitled "Rosewood High's Finest," and under it a picture of the two geniuses, Cassia Rolland and Lela Fontaine. This made Michael frown, why did the dead dude have to do with those two. Detective Moore sighed.

"I know you're there Michael." Oh shit, thought Michael. Moore and the officer both turned to look at the boy in question, so he said the only thing really on his mind.

"Why does he have that? Is he, or was he, their stalker or something?" Both Moore and the officer looked at each other before the first answered him.

"We don't really know as of yet, but we will." Michael nodded, but then noticed something causing the dead man's shirt to stick out.

Michael pointed to it, "I think there's something under his shirt, see that puffiness right there?" Moore lightly pushed at it, then pulled gloves out of his inside pocket, placing them on his hands before he started to open the man's shirt.

"You're right," Said the officer, as he looked morosely at whatever caused the bulging. Michael took the liberty to step into the scene, and stopped when he was right beside the police man and Moore. What had been under the man's shirt was what probably was close to a hundred and fifty other newspaper clippings, and based on what Michael could see, they were all of him, Lela, Thomas, Cassia, and Lacy. Him bringing his team to glory as they won the state finals, Cassia accepting the trip to Japan to compete in the National Honors Society Hall of Fame, Lacy and her cheerleading team winning Regional and State Finals, Thomas accepting one of the most prestigious football scholarships in the country, Lela being nationally recognized as the third youngest distinguished designer of computer software ever, and many more shining moments of the star students. Michael sucked in breath, he had been wrong before, as this dude wasn't Lela and Cassia's stalker—he had been stalking all of them.

A/N: I know I haven't updated in Forever, and this chapter isn't of the best quality, but here lately my writing has seriously sucked, to the point where I even dread doing it. Despite that, I'm trying to get back into it, easing into really, so this chapter was kind of a test for myself, and personally I feel like I failed it. Please tell what you think, and I'm sorry about it being so short.


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